Jesse Fett Called Me a Clown

Social media was lighting up all over America—ignorance, misinformation, and accusations landing like bombs in comment sections and posts.

Clara, a sensitive woman with deep empathy for all people, felt overwhelmed. She was particularly disturbed by the military planes deporting immigrants and asylum seekers, knowing the new government wasn’t distinguishing between citizens, legal residents, tax-paying workers, and the so-called violent criminals. She doubted the rhetoric but found herself drowning in the sheer volume of terrible news. She only wanted to express sympathy.

Then, a reply to her comment caught her eye.

“They are criminals, you 🤡”

Jesse Fett. A stranger.

Clara had never been called a clown before. She tilted her head, confused. A clown? All she had done was offer a few kind words. How did that make her a clown?

She always thought clowns wore oversized shoes—but her shoes were a size 6 narrow. The idea made her chuckle. She imagined herself in a clown suit, entertaining crowds. She was shy by nature, but perhaps dressing as a clown would give her the freedom to be silly, even bold. Maybe it could even be a platform—a way to talk about things that mattered to her: equal rights, the harm caused by phobias, the need for compassion.

But whiteface? No, that wouldn’t work. It could be misconstrued. And a big red nose? Not her style.

She never realized clowns were liberals. Was there a group for progressive clowns? Could she follow a more contemporary commedia dell’arte-style clowning without the old, harmful tropes?

She walked to her closet, searching for anything remotely clown-like.

She knew Jesse Fett had meant to insult her, but she didn’t care. If anything, his words sparked something unexpected—a transformation, a shift in identity.

A warrior.

“A clown warrior,” Clara mused.

Then she smiled.

“Clara the Clarrior.”